


under my skin

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 18:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4070899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Nice guns yourself,” he adds, nodding appreciatively at Johnny’s arms. “Would look good with some ink of their own.”</p><p>Johnny mouth twists, expression unimpressed. “It’s your livelihood to say that, buddy.”</p><p>Brent hums. “True. But it’s also a personal opinion."</p>
            </blockquote>





	under my skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alotofthingsdifferent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/gifts).



> For amanda, who talked about wanting this on tumblr. You should check out the amazing art by lord-tazer-senpai [here](http://lord-tazer-senpai.tumblr.com/post/120522609923)

“Hey man,” Brent says to the ridiculously hot guy that’s just walked into his shop. 

“Hey,” the guy replies. He’s summer tan, looking happy and relaxed. He’s also wearing horrible jorts but Brent will forgive that in the face of his muscular arms and six pack visible beneath his near see-through white shirt. “Just browsing.” 

“Sure. We’ve got books and,” Brent waves a hand, “obviously a lot up on the walls.” 

The guy nods, looking around, taking in the place. Duncs is working on a full back tat and Brandon’s doing a belly piercing. 

“Thanks,” the guy says, smiling a little crookedly. 

Brent gets distracted by another customer coming in, knowing exactly what they want. When he’s seated in his chair in the back, getting the needles set up, he hears the front door chime. He looks up to see the guy now walking past his store window. 

He feels oddly disappointed.  
___________________________________

The guy’s name is Johnny. Brent only finds this out because he comes back the following week, his friend exclaiming, “Ah, fuck, Johnny, look at that killer hawk tat.”

“You and your birds, Kaner,” Johnny, apparently, says, voice fond.

“Got another one for you right here,” Brent pipes up from behind the counter. They turn to look at him and Brent shifts, showing off the huge tattoo that he dons on the side of his neck.

He thinks Johnny might blush a little, which is kind of mesmerizing. “Uh, hey man. Good to see you again." 

Brent quirks an eyebrow at him, eyes sliding over to his friend who’s watching them with a barely contained smirk, before looking back to Johnny. "Same. You gonna get something this time, or are you still ‘browsing’?" 

His friend laughs. "Tazer’s been thinking about a tattoo forever, dude, but he’s all think and no do. I, on the other hand, am ready." 

Johnny rolls his eyes as his friend pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket. 

"Well, that’s simple enough.” It’s just two hockey sticks, crossed, and a puck in the middle. “Where you want it?"  
"Ankle."  
"Cool. I’m Brent,” he says, shaking the guys hand. 

“Patrick, but everyone calls me Kaner.”

Brent nods, then looks at Johnny expectantly. 

“Johnny,” he says, holding his hand out for Brent. Its ridiculous and Brent would deny it if asked, but he absolutely feels a spark when their hands meet.“only this one calls me Tazer, really. ” he says, hooking his other thumb at Patrick. “Nice uh, sleeves, man,” Johnny says, his throat working as his eyes trail over Brent’s ink-covered arms. 

“Thanks,” Brent replies. God, he’s a work of art, wearing some designer tee that makes Brent think of a Joy Division tattoo he did last week. It’s black and shows off his definition even more than the other shirt, if that were possible, especially at the cuffs around his biceps. Which makes Brent think of only one thing. 

"Nice guns yourself,” he adds, nodding appreciatively at Johnny’s arms. “Would look good with some ink of their own.”

Johnny mouth twists, expression unimpressed. “It’s your livelihood to say that, buddy.”

Brent hums. “True. But it’s also a personal opinion." 

He watches that flush return to Johnny’s face, sees him scratch at the back of his neck likes he’s pleased by the praise. It’s only when Johnny’s fingers tightens around his reflexively that he realizes they were still shaking hands. 

"Anyway, uh,” Brent says, feeling a little dazed and more than a little wondering what it would be like to see Johnny flush from praise in a very different setting. "Right this way,” he says to Kaner. 

After a pause he says, over his shoulder to Johnny, “You can come back, too, if you want.”

He hears Kaner snort, and is pretty sure Johnny elbows him in the side afterward. 

Brent grins to himself and gets ready to work.  
_______________________________

“So, you’re obviously not afraid of needles,” Brent says to Johnny when he’s halfway through Kaner’s tattoo. 

“Hmm?” Johnny says, jerking his head up. 

Brent smirks, looking back down at his work. “My point exactly, man. You’ve been staring at the needle the whole time, obviously you’re not afraid of them.” 

Johnny’s eyebrows are knit together when Brent glances back up. “No, uh. Why?” 

Brent shrugs. “Most people hesitant to get a tat are usually afraid of the pain and shit.” 

“That's not a problem for me,” Johnny says, voice confident. 

Brent hears Kaner giggle a little. 

“Okay,” Brent says slowly. “So what’s the hold up, man? Scoping out other joints?” 

Johnny shakes his head and chews on his lip. “Nah, I just. Don’t like to rush into shit that’s… permanent.” 

Kaner laughs again. “If you couldn’t already guess, he’s also single,” he pipes up, helpfully. 

Brent’s sure Kaner’s chirping the shit outta Johnny, but he’s also glad for the information. 

“Shut up,” Johnny mutters, and there’s that flush again. 

Brent’s got no idea if Johnny’s a) not straight or b) interested, but he’s definitely enjoying how easy it is to get under his skin.

Brent would kill to work on him, among other things. 

“Taking your time is… important,” Brent says, even though he doesn’t really believe it. He prefers the impulsiveness of tattoos. Everyone he’s gotten has been on a whim. Duncs is the complete opposite. He’d love Johnny. 

As if reading his mind, Johnny asks, “So uh, who did your tattoos?” 

“I did the ones I could reach, but my partner Duncs did most of the rest.” 

“Partner?” Johnny asks, and then actually puts his hand over his mouth, as if to push the words back in. It shouldn’t be cute. “Sorry, that was kind of rude.” 

“Dear god,” Kaner mutters, “you are so fucking Canadian.” 

Brent’s eyes light up. “Canadian?” 

“...yes?” 

He grins, wiping at the ink on Kaner’s leg. “Me too, man. B.C.” 

“Manitoba,” Johnny says, face relaxing into a grin. 

They trade Canadian comradery for a few minutes while Kaner ignores them. 

“You’re all done,” Brent says, slapping Kaner on the shoulder. “Let me get some cream and gauze.” 

He hears them whispering quietly as he makes his way to the back. 

“You like it, man?” he asks Kaner when he returns.

“Hell, yes,” he says, grinning down at it. “Thanks, dude.” 

“My pleasure,” Brent says. 

“You do good work,” Johnny says. 

“Yeah? Gonna give me a chance, then?” 

Johnny laughs. “Well see.” 

When they’re back at the front, Kaner digging into his wallet, Brent turns to Johnny. “Business partner.” 

“Huh?” 

He looks at Johnny pointedly, hands resting on the counter. “Duncs. He’s my business partner.” 

“Oh, right. Cool. Uh, sorry.” 

Brent snorts, rolling his eyes. “He could’ve been a different type of partner, but we were never like that.” 

And there he goes, coming out to randos in his shop, why not. The things he does for a pretty face and a killer body. 

“Same with me and him, right Johnny?” Kaner says, bumping his hip. 

Brent thinks he likes Kaner. Not the world’s most _subtle_ wingman, but he’s certainly giving it an ample try. 

“Jeez, cool it,” Johnny mutters to him before looking back at Brent through his lashes. This guy absolutely knows what he’s doing, Brent’s sure of it. He doesn’t buy the shy thing for a second. Embarrassment, maybe. But he’d bet Johnny could probably pick up whomever the hell he wanted in two seconds flat. 

Brent really wishes he was on the receiving end of that. 

“So maybe I’ll see you around,” Johnny says. “While I… mull it over some more.”

Brent nods, handing Kaner his change and accepting the tip he gives right back. “I’ll be here,” Brent murmurs. He hopes Johnny takes it as the invitation it is. 

______________________________________

Johnny comes back the following week, and the week after that. He looks at more of the artwork in the shop, meets Duncs and Brandon, who tell him he’s doing a good job by waiting. 

“Gotta be sure,” Duncs says. 

Brent rolls his eyes. “Might I remind you, his ink pays our salaries and rent.” 

Johnny laughs at him brightly from where he’s lounging on one of the chairs in the waiting room, flipping through a book of Duncs’ work. 

“Honesty. I like that, man.” 

Brent spreads his arms. “That’s me.” 

Their gazes catch on each other and something he can’t place flitters across Johnny’s face before he looks away quickly. 

Brent really should just ask the guy out already. 

So far he’s learned that Johnny works down the block. He’s a nutritionist, and just opened his own private practice. 

(“It’s next to the gym,” Johnny says. “So I figured primo location, you know? Been leaving my cards there.” 

“You can leave them here, too, if you want?”)

And that was how Brent found out his last name and his phone number. Well, work number. Brent really needs to stop relying on other sources to get information on a guy who keeps coming into _his_ place of business. 

So on Johnny’s sixth visit to the shop (which has devolved less into Johnny mulling over a tattoo and more into him and Brent making small talk while Brent, Duncs and Brandon work on people and Johnny sits at the front counter as if he owns the joint) Brent speaks up. 

“Alright, enough of this indecision, man. You. Me. The chair. I’m gonna paint it on you, okay? So you can see.” 

Johnny looks at him skeptically. 

Brent holds up his hands. “No charge, no tricks. C’mon, Johnny.”

“Okay,” he says, following Brent to the back. 

And it’s then he realizes Johnny’s never even told him what he wants to get. 

“Oh,” Johnny says when Brent asks him. “Right, uh. You’re gonna think it’s cheesy.” 

Brent rolls his eyes. “Man, I’ve seen and done more than you can imagine. Hit me.”

He isn’t exactly prepared for Johnny to raise another one of his sinfully hot t-shirts up, revealing the smooth cut of his abs, his nearly hairless chest, and golden skin. He pushes at the waistband of his jeans a bit, thumbing his hipbone. “Just, uh. The words ‘balance, energy, fate’ in black, uh. Don’t really know about the font. On my hip.” 

Brent bites back a grin. He should find it cheesy as hell. Instead, he’s kind of charmed by it. 

“Alright,” Brent says. He’s already visualizing it in his head and has an idea. “Hang on.” 

He grabs his mini brush and ink and pulls up his chair to the side of Johnny. 

Johnny’s eyes are on his face, he can feel them, but Brent’s are focused on his body and the way he’s already pushed he’s unbuttoned his jeans and rolled down his boxers a little to reveal his skin. 

“Uh,” Brent swallows. This was a bad idea. Really bad. He’s a consummate professional, but god, he wants to put his mouth on Johnny’s skin, fuck the ink. 

Brent works quickly, methodically, eyes definitely not straying lower to where Johnny’s dick is trapped beneath his jeans. They don’t talk, which makes it worse, the tension in the air pretty undeniable as he paints Johnny’s skin in slow, smooth strokes. 

He decides to put slashes in between the words, because it’s how he envisions them. He doesn’t know if Johnny will like it, but it’s not like this is permanent.

Brent’s addicted to the way goosebumps raise on Johnny’s skin, to the way the muscles in his stomach contract at Brent’s touches, to the way his breaths are growing a little shallow, as if Brent’s paint brush is as sensual as a feather teasing over someone’s skin. 

By the time they’re done, Brent needs a fucking cold shower, or a fucking date. 

“What do you think?” Brent says, holding up a mirror. 

Johnny’s eyes widen, his head tilting as he examines it. 

“Wow,” he says softly. 

It’s nothing special. It’s simple, and crisp and maybe a little too stringent. 

Yet Johnny apparently loves it. Brent forces down a rush of pride. 

“I want it,” Johnny says, looking up at Brent with a determined expression. It’s ridiculously hot. “For real.” 

“Let’s do this, then.” 

They do. Brent tracing over his design with the tattoo gun, the two of them locked in a repeat of some weird sexual tension. 

He’s pretty damn sure Johnny’s got half a hard-on by the time they’re done and god, it makes Brent wonder what his ‘pain isn’t a problem for me’ comment really _meant_. He’d kill to have him on all fours, slapping the same ass he’s admired every time Johnny’s walked out his door. 

When Johnny’s beaming down at his tattoo and then up at Brent, he decides to stop beating around the bush. 

“You wanna uh, go out sometime, man? Away from here?” Brent says, as they walk back up to the front. It’s better that way, so he doesn’t have to see Johnny’s face if he says no. 

“Um, yeah. Absolutely.” 

Brent comes to a stop behind the counter, Johnny sliding into view in front of him. He’s beaming even more, if possible, face cracked open in a wide, happy smile, the skin of his eyes wrinkling at the edges. 

“Yeah?” Brent teases, grinning himself. 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Been waiting for you to get a clue, buddy.” 

Brent snorts. “If you went through all the trouble of a permanent tattoo just to get my _attention_ , Johnny...” 

“Please,” Johnny says. “The tattoo was always my main goal here. You’re just, uh, the bonus.” 

Brent plants his palms on the counter and leans forward a little. “I can handle that.” 

_______________________________________

Brent finds out three more things about Johnny, before long:

1) He flushes even more beautifully beneath Brent in bed, when they’re kissing and breathless, panting into one another’s mouths, as he works their dicks in his hand. 

2) He does like to get slapped, and rimmed until he’s sobbing from it, that gorgeous flush building at the back of his neck and spreading down his spine. 

3) He seems to love the most when Brent traces the lines of his tattoo with his fingers, before following it with his tongue, slowly mapping out the words like he’s swallowing them up. 

Brent loves that third one the most too, honestly. 

[end]


End file.
